Pouting and Squealing
by Miss Kass
Summary: Draco 'borrows' his father's Pensieve, and revisits a time when things were simpler for him and his friends.


Spoilers: No spoilers, baybee.  
Disclaimer: If I was the richest woman in England, I wouldn't need to write fanfiction.  
Notes: Written as a giftfic for my friend Andie. ilu baybee.

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Draco's father had a Pensieve. It wasn't particularly unusual for people of his status to possess one, often upper class members of society felt pressured to remember so much that a Pensieve was a welcomed gift. However, due to Lucius being a touch… secretive about most of his affairs, the Pensieve was hardly used. And so, Draco decided to experiment.

One night, after sneaking downstairs in a very un-Malfoy-like manner, Draco silently pulled open the cabinet where Lucius kept his less used belongings. Beside the Pensieve lay Lucius' blood red cane (reminded him too much of Gryffindor, he always said), and the mug that Draco made for him on his fifth birthday ("it's wonderful," he had said, but then the mug had been moved to the shelf, and never spoken of again).

After attempting to lift it, and subsequently remembering that he was, in fact, a wizard, Draco elegantly levitated the surprisingly heavy stone basin up the stairs, and back into his room. He sat down on the edge of the bed, let the Pensieve float down and land in front of him, and stared at it for a while. For a moment he was tempted to touch the glowing liquid memories, but thought it probably wasn't wise to delve into his father's memories, instead, he would search his own.

Draco placed the tip of his wand against his temple, and searched around for a memory that wouldn't be painful to live through again. Being punched in the face by the Mudblood? Not likely. In fact, most of his school life was either uninteresting, or made painful by the Mudblood and her sorry little friends. So he searched an earlier time of his life, before Hogwarts.

Eventually, he grew tired of searching, and just pulled out the memory floating closest to his wand, with no regard to what it was. He gently lowered it into the swirling pool, and waited a moment, taking a deep breath, before sticking his finger into it. Because he had pulled one out at random, he wasn't prepared for the sight before him.

--

"DRACO!" Pansy squealed and grabbed onto Draco as he peered around his mother's legs at the people at the door.

"Pansy," Draco replied, in a far calmer tone that the one Pansy had chosen. He hugged her back, grinning, then carefully detached her arms from his body and grabbed onto her hand. "What do you want to do?"

"UMMMM." Pansy twisted her tongue between her teeth and thought about what she could possibly want to do in Draco's gigantic manor, whilst Draco led her through the halls to the room that his parents delegated as the 'play room'. They didn't like it when Pansy spilled tea on the upholstery. "I think-"

"No tea," Draco said, cutting off the end of Pansy's thought. "Last time we had tea mummy said that you 'made too much of a mess of her nice carpet and she never wanted us to have tea again'." He spoke in a childish imitation of his mother's voice, attempting to copy the way she turned up her nose at people.

Pansy looked at him doubtfully. "My mummy said that your mummy told her she didn't mind about the carpet." She paused for a moment to look at the carpet they were currently walking on, pulling Draco to a stop as he tried to move ahead. "_I_ think you just don't want me to put your hair in pigtails again." She squealed and, with her free hand, pulled up one side of Draco's hair into a tiny blond pigtail.

He batted her hand away, pouting. "No I didn't!" He smoothed down his hair (like he would grow accustomed to doing when he was older), but he really had liked it, in that little kid way of liking people playing with your hair. Plus, she was Pansy, and he thought she could do anything to him and he wouldn't mind.

Older Draco, who had been following the two small children down the hallway as they walked, smiled to himself and unconsciously patted his hair down in the same way as the younger Draco had. This was one of his better memories of childhood; spending time with Pansy was always his favourite thing to do when he was little. Eventually they made it to the play room, and he watched from a corner, still smiling at the memories flooding back to him about the day.

Pansy immediately ran over to the tea set, as the younger Draco had assumed she would, and she dragged him with her. "Pleeeeeeeeeease can we have a tea party?" She batted her eyelashes at him in an attempt to win him over, but he let go of her hand and crossed his arms.

"No."

"Please!"

"No."

"DRAAAAAAAAACOOOOO!" Pansy yelled, screwing up her chubby face, her pug nose twitching as if she was about to cry. "I want to and I won't do it for long because I know you don't like it but I like to do it and please can we play for just a little bit?" Draco didn't really know why he had the urge to give in to her, but he did anyway. He had a tea party with her for as long as she wanted (which had turned out to be a few hours), and then let her do his hair again, just because it made her happy.

Older Draco was still smiling, even when he remembered the tangles his mother had tried to attack out of his hair after Pansy had gotten a comb trapped in it, and the tea that had spilled all over his new trousers after Pansy accidentally tripped over the edge of the table. And as he was returned to the real world, perched on the end of his bed, he realised that while he didn't know why he gave in to her demands as a child, he certainly knew now:

It was love. (And partly that little pout and squeal she put on when she was annoyed. Draco couldn't resist.)


End file.
